


Clean

by your_bro_joe



Category: Team Fortress 2
Genre: Alternate Universe - Children, Anniversaries, Body Worship, Drunken Flirting, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Humor, Killing Together, M/M, Marriage, Romance, Slaying Together Means Staying Together, cooking together
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-08-22
Updated: 2015-04-28
Packaged: 2017-11-12 15:28:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 20
Words: 5,029
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/492747
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/your_bro_joe/pseuds/your_bro_joe
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Just little romantic pieces about old men in love.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Everything was perfect. Medic’s desk was set with the best rations; a white sheet doubled for a table cloth; the light of the X-Ray viewers cast the Infirmary in a dim, romantic glow; Archimedes slept soundly in his cage.

Amid laughter and talk, Heavy and Medic would pause to gaze fondly at each other, and when Medic let his hand rest beside his plate, Heavy settled his on top of it, stroking it gently with his thumb. Letting out a happy sigh, Medic smiled, and they leaned forward together—

The Infirmary door rattled just before their lips could meet, and then there was an insistent knocking. Medic grumbled and leaned back in his chair. “Heavy, see who it is, bitte, and tell them to go away,” he rubbed his temple, wanting only to carry on with their romantic evening.

“Da, Doktor,” Heavy replied, trudging reluctantly to the door and swinging it all the way open. Seeing who it was, he slammed it immediately.

Medic sat up straight. “Was ist los?”

“It’s Pyro,” Heavy whispered, fear evident on his face. Medic grimaced.

“Tell them to go away!” Medic pleaded, looking nervously at the door as Pyro began to knock again.

Heavy nodded, steeled himself, and opened the door a crack.

“Doktor says ‘go away’,” he wavered, then shut the door as their masked teammate started a muffled sentence. Just as Heavy wiped the sweat from his brow, the insistent knocking resumed.

Medic had had enough by this point, morbid curiosity overriding his fear. He stood and joined Heavy at the door, gripping the giant’s shoulder in solidarity.

“We should probably find out what they want, then tell them to go,” he said less-than-confidently, swallowing past the growing lump in his throat. Heavy eyed him warily, but eventually nodded in agreement. He straightened his shoulders and back, drawing himself up to his full, considerable height, and opened the door.

“What do you want, little Pyro?” Heavy managed to keep his tone menacing, staring down at the masked maniac. Pyro looked indifferently back up, bouncing on their heels excitedly.

“Hrm mrd yrr rmrng,” came the unintelligible words, but to their mounting horror, Heavy and Medic realized Pyro was holding something behind their back. When Pyro’s arms started to move, they automatically cringed, shutting their eyes and waiting for fiery, excruciating death.

“Ha daaa!”

When they realized the exclamation was not the harbinger of their untimely demise, they opened their eyes, blinking down at… a cake? Well, it kind of looked like a cake. It was cake-shaped, round, and suspiciously crispy-looking for something covered with vanilla frosting. On its top was what seemed to be a crude drawing of charred corpses, and two words:

HAPE ANEVIRSREE

The duo was speechless. Medic automatically took the item out of politeness, uncertain if he should even be touching it. Heavy’s mouth hung unflatteringly open. Pyro laughed, bouncing and clapping.

“Hngrts!” Pyro mumbled, then waved and took off running down the hall.

Heavy and Medic stared after them, then down at the “cake”, then at each other. When the shock had sufficiently worn off, a cold bolt of fear ran through Medic’s stomach, and he grabbed Heavy’s shoulder.

_“How did they know?”_


	2. Chapter 2

When Heavy woke, the pillow beside him was damp, which would not be so unusual except for the soft sniffling sounds coming from his bed mate.

“Doktor?” he called quietly, reaching out to touch Medic’s back. The German turned slightly, but not far enough to show his face.

“I’m sorry, Kuschelbär, did I wake you?” Medic murmured. “Go back to sleep.”

“You are crying,” Heavy stated, running a thumb over Medic’s cheek to find warm tears there. Medic winced, but rolled over to face his lover fully.

“So I am,” he smiled softly, wrapping his fingers around one of Heavy’s great hands, “but I am fine. Do not worry, liebe, go back to sleep.”

“Are not fine,” Heavy frowned, his grasp on English loosened by tiredness, “what is wrong, Doktor, please.”

Medic only shook his head and kissed the Russian’s calloused knuckles. “I’ll tell you in the morning,” he replied.

Heavy sighed, but gathered the doctor tightly in his arms and kissed his forehead until he fell asleep. Medic only hoped the other man would forget the incident by morning.


	3. Chapter 3

About an hour after climbing into their shared bed—Medic reading a medical text and Heavy leaning against his side until he fell asleep—Heavy began to snore. Medic typically took this as his cue to put his book away and join his lover in sleep, but tonight, looking down at his rough features bathed in soft lamplight, Medic felt a wave of affection wash over him. Setting his book down, he took a moment to truly appreciate the features of the larger man’s face: the hooked nose, pink cheeks, deep-set eyes and prominent brow. The stubble on his cheeks and scalp looked darker in the dim light, and though he knew there were those who would pass Heavy off as an ugly simpleton, there was no one in the world the doctor found more handsome. The masculinity that poured from the man attracted Medic like nothing else; even his obvious male-pattern baldness was alluring, and he felt compelled to reach out and stroke the tanned skin of his scalp, tracing the hairline and running his fingers over the short hairs.

At the contact, Heavy stirred, yawning and reaching out to pull Medic closer. “Doctor, is time for bed?” he slurred, not opening his eyes. Medic laughed softly.

“Ja, mein liebe, I am sorry for waking you,” he replied, then removed his glasses and turned out the lamp.

Sighing contentedly, he settled further into the bed and into Heavy’s arms. Heavy grinned, drawing the doctor in close. “Kiss me,” the giant requested, feeling his way to Medic’s face, and the smaller man happily complied, kissing him once, then again, then a third time. The last kiss lingered a moment as he slid a hand up his lover’s chest and up to stroke his head again. When they broke, Medic settled into the space beneath Heavy’s chin.

“You are affectionate tonight, Doctor,” Heavy observed, running comforting hands up and down the other man’s back.

“I cannot help it,” Medic replied, melting into that touch, “I simply find you irresistible.” He placed another kiss to the hollow of Heavy’s throat. “I love you.”

Heavy’s grin broadened, and he kissed the top of the smaller man’s head. “I love you too, Doctor.”

They lay in sweet silence like that for a few moments, the only sounds that of steady breathing and heartbeats. Medic kissed him again, eyes finally slipping shut for the night. “Let us rest, Schatz. Perhaps we can explore these affections further another night,” the older man sighed, hold on his lover going lax.

“Is my thoughts as well. Sleep well, мой голубчик,” Heavy replied, massive hands stilling on Medic’s back.

“Sleep well, mein Liebling,” Medic returned, lulled finally to sleep by warmth and strength and contentment.


	4. Chapter 4

After midnight, Archimedes felt the need to squawk, which woke both his pet-father and his pet-father’s lover. After Medic let the noisy bird outside and settled back into his Heavy’s arms, they engaged in some snuggling, which turned into kissing, which turned into more.

Medic came several minutes later with Heavy deep inside him, thrusting until he came as well. Sweaty and sated, Heavy placed sleepy kisses over his lover’s face and neck, holding him tightly, until his stomach growled, effectively interrupting the moment. “Doktor,” he mumbled into Medic’s hair, “am hungry.”

Medic laughed, running his hands over Heavy’s back possessively before he squirmed out from under him to sit up. “What would you like, mein Kuschelbär?” he asked. Heavy smiled against the older man’s hip.

“Cupcakes.”

Making cupcakes in a military-style base was difficult, but with the basic ingredients—flour, sugar, eggs, milk, butter—it was not so difficult to make the cakes themselves from scratch. Frosting was a little more of a challenge, but with butter, salt, milk, and some seemingly out-of-place vanilla extract, some basic cupcakes were doable. 

Making them was more fun than eating them, sleepy as they were, and they stayed up far later than they should have, but it was worth it, to lick the frosting off of Heavy’s nose, to kiss the batter off Medic’s chest, to feed each other tiny pieces, to taste the sweetness as they kissed, disposing of all the evidence silently in the dark kitchen, and laughing to themselves the next morning when the others wondered what smelled so delicious.


	5. Chapter 5

A smile untouched by malice. A brush of fingers not entirely accidental. A bullet undodged to spare the other.

It was small things. Little things unnoticed by the others. Things that reminded Heavy and Medic of their bond—their commitment.

That was on the field, of course. Off it, in the privacy of their quarters, they were free to do as they pleased, guarded by locked doors and threats to the others not to be disturbed.

There, they could touch, kiss, make love to each other. They could speak intimately and make plans for a future that involved them both.

But it was still little things that made them most fulfilled. When Medic would laugh in a way that wasn’t manic; wasn’t forced. When Heavy would reach out and gently grasp his lover’s hand, dwarfed in his: safe; protected.

And at night, in the dark of the room they had come to call “ours”, they could embrace, and speak quietly, and place quick kisses on each other’s noses and cheeks and eyelashes. They could whisper their “I love you”s, in English and their native tongues, and they could drift to sleep peacefully, so far in their world that the battlefield seemed lightyears away.


	6. Chapter 6

It’s on a Thursday. Not an ideal day, but they’ve been retired for two decades, and any friends they would have wanted to invite are either dead or too old to travel the distance to Massachusetts. It’s fine, though. Everything is fine.

They honestly had never considered the possibility before the 1990s, when people really started making a fuss. They were already old by then, and when a story would pass on the news, they would glance at each other sadly for a moment, knowing it would never happen in their lifetimes. 

It’s on a Monday when they hear the court has ruled in their favor, and same-sex marriage has become legal in their state. It takes them four days to decide if they really want to go through with it.

It’s not that they aren’t committed; nearly forty years together has proven that much. It’s rather that they wonder if it’s worth it to brave the spectacle at the courthouses to prove what they already know.

In the end, they decide that it is.

They are married by a Justice of the Peace, surrounded by young people that a former teammate of theirs would have called “hippie-types”. The spectators smile as they listen to the couple recite their vows and clap when at last they slip gold bands on each other’s fingers and have their first kiss as spouses.

On their way out through the cheering crowd, a reporter stops them, holding a tape recorder up.

“How long have you been waiting for this?” she asks, just as happy as the crowd that watched the ceremony.

In a thick, German accent that he never really lost, Medic replies, “Far too long,” and continues pushing Heavy’s—his husband’s—wheelchair out of the building.


	7. Chapter 7

Gray hair and thin skin; that was what Heavy saw when he pulled back from kisses with his Doctor lately. An old man.

But in his mind, he would recolor the white to black, and erase the liver spots. The wrinkles would disappear and the cheeks would take on a rosy glow.

He loved his Doctor and would never leave him, and he did love growing old with him. It was just that, in the grand scheme of things, he wished they’d met when they were younger, and that they had more time.


	8. Chapter 8

“What’s wrong?” the boy with the spectacles asked, kneeling in front of a child twice his size who was blubbering into giant hands.

“I f-fell,” the larger boy sobbed, pointing at the other end of the concrete stair he was sitting on. The smaller boy could see blood there. “My knee, it hurts,” he frowned, holding his hand over the area, but not touching the scraped skin.

The bespectacled boy leaned in close, examining the injury, then sat back on his haunches. “Don’t be such a baby,” he said kindly, “it’s just a scratch.” As the larger boy watched him suspiciously, the smaller of the two produced a bandage from his pocket and carefully unwrapped it, placing it over the cut. “There,” he stood, dusting off his pants, “all better, yeah?” He smiled again, holding out his hand to the other boy. His small hand was quickly covered by the giant one.

“Are you a doctor?” the larger boy asked, still holding his hand.

“Not yet,” the smaller boy said proudly, “but you can call me ‘Doctor’.”

“You can call me ‘Heavy’, then,” the other boy smiled, straightening up, “because I will be Heavyweight Champion someday.”

“Deal,” the future doctor laughed, shaking Heavy’s hand, then tugging on it. “Now come on, let’s go play.”

“Yeah,” Heavy grinned, following his new friend back to the jungle gym.


	9. Chapter 9

“Now just… If I can… get the sheet—Schiesse—!!” Medic bit his lip in frustration, hot tears stinging the corners of his eyes as he finally gave in and sat on the bed, clutching the corner fabric tightly in his hand.

“Doctor?” Heavy called quietly, drawn by Medic’s shout. When he saw the German sitting with his hand over his eyes, he rushed to his side.

“It’s just… the verdammt sheet won’t—” Medic said, trying unsuccessfully to hide the crack in his voice. Heavy took the sheet from him and tucked it under the mattress, then sat next to the older man and gathered him into his lap. The warmth and strength of Heavy’s body sent Medic over the edge, no longer hiding his tears as he wept openly into Heavy’s chest.

“It’s alright, Doctor,” Heavy soothed, rubbing his lover’s back. “It’s alright.” He looked to the small box on the doctor’s desk. “We’ll bury him tomorrow.”

And he held him until they fell asleep.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For mrsalt

”I cannot believe you! You—you—OAF!” Medic shrieked, unable to contain his flash of anger as he held Archimedes in his hands, trying to soothe the frightened, injured bird. Heavy looked nearly as angry, a trickle of blood running down the side of his bald head.

“Little bird hurt me first,” he growled, defensive against his lover’s anger. Medic’s eyes widened.

“I am sure it was an accident! And he is just ein kleiner Vogel. You are a giant! You could have killed him!” Archimedes cooed sharply when the doctor’s fingers brushed his broken wing, and Medic immediately felt guilty, whispering kind phrases to the bird.

“You always take his side,” Heavy murmured, about to continue when Medic’s anger flashed again.

“Archimedes has been mein freund, my companion, since long before I knew you! Of course I take his side!” he snapped, cradling the tiny animal to his chest.

“I know, that is why I take him to you. I did not hurt him on purpose, Doctor, I would not. You know I would not. I feel pain in my head and I swat air. If I knew was tiny bird, I would have done nothing! But I see he is hurt and I take him to you. If I wanted to hurt him, would I have done that?” Heavy groaned, his tone somewhere between angry and pleading.

“I am not a veterinarian,” Medic said defensively, and Heavy frowned.

“I know, but you help little bird. You patch him up. I thought you could use healing gun—”

“It does not work on animals.”

“I know that now but I did not before. But you are doctor. You still help him. Look at tiny splint you make. I knew you could help.”

Heavy looked defeated, but Medic finally deflated, rubbed Archimedes’ head with one finger and set the bird down on the counter, who went off in search of food or blood. The German sighed, head dropped in embarrassment as he stepped closer to his giant lover. 

“I am sorry,” he murmured, “he is just… mein freund. We have been through so much, and I—” he sighed, “I am very protective of him.”

“I know, Doctor,” Heavy answered, “is alright. I understand.” He opened his arms. “Come here.”

Medic moved forward, and Heavy encircled him with those huge arms, capable of such quick destruction but such astounding gentleness. Those arms would never hurt anything Medic loved on purpose, and Medic felt incredibly guilty for even suggesting it. He returned the embrace, clutching the back of Heavy’s T-shirt.

“It’s alright, Doctor,” Heavy whispered, petting the smaller man’s hair, “it’s alright.”

“He will have to wear the splint for several weeks, at least,” Medic mumbled, a smile tugging at his lips when he felt Heavy kiss the crown of his head, “I expect you to help with his recovery.”

“Anything, I will do for Doctor,” Heavy replied, then pulled back to look at Medic’s face. “He will be fine. Is in good hands,” he smiled, and Medic found himself smiling back. He took both of Heavy’s giant hands in his.

“He is,” the doctor affirmed, and in a few weeks, the little dove was flying with his friends, and his caretakers were closer than ever.


	11. Chapter 11

“Do you want to get married?”

Medic chuckles, not even looking up from the morning paper. “Are you joking, Liebe? I thought it would be quite obvious by now that I have no interest in women.”

“No,” Heavy implores, “I mean to me.”

Medic blinks, folds the paper and sets it aside, looking at his lover with tired eyes. “Heavy, you know we can’t,” he says gently, but the resolve doesn’t leave the Russian’s gaze.

“I know, but if we could,” he reaches out to hold the doctor’s hand, “would you?”

Medic’s expression fades into a soft smile, his eyes growing brighter as he looks into Heavy’s. “There is no one I would rather spend my life with.”

“Good,” Heavy smiles back, and leans in to kiss him, the action holding the promise of something bigger than both of them.


	12. Chapter 12

When Medic signed onto Reliable Excavation and Demolition, he promised himself that he would no longer hide who he was. After decades of being persecuted, hunted, shunned, and imprisoned by his own countrymen, a daring escape, and the beginning of a life of questionable morals and even more questionable legality, he had had enough. At this stage of his life, if anyone made a move against him, he had the means and the knowledge necessary to silence them permanently.

So when team chatter inevitably turned to their taste in women, he unabashedly admitted he was only attracted to men. He expected awkward glances, cold stares, lectures and possibly violence. What he hadn’t expected was a few nonplussed shrugs, to be asked what his type was, and later, the Heavy’s clumsy attempts at wooing him, and to fall so quickly for them.

Much later, after the doctor had finally given up and just kissed him, Medic wondered aloud why Heavy hadn’t just asked him if he was interested.

“Doctor is a classy man,” he’d replied, “is not the type to just ask, ‘Do you want me?’ Doctor deserves romance, and respect. I respect how you tell team, unafraid, how you feel. I knew then, I must do this right.”

And that was it. Medic was in love.


	13. Chapter 13

There was nothing official; no ceremony, no celebration, not even a proper proposal. There was barely any change at all, but the team still noticed, rather quickly, that the Heavy and the Medic were each wearing plain gold bands on their left ring fingers.

Medic’s was less obvious, of course, typically covered by his gloves in combat, but around the base in his more casual vest, the ring was clearly visible.

Heavy’s was more ostentatious if only by the virtue of its size. His fingerless gloves did not cover it, and though he rarely gestured with his hands, it was still hard to miss the glint of gold.

No one said anything. No congratulations, no knowing nods. The pair acted as if nothing had changed, and the rest of the team respected that unspoken want for privacy. Even though their commitment was on public display, the others knew the symbolism was more for themselves than for anyone else.

Still, when Heavy let an arm slip around Medic’s waist at meetings, or when the doctor leaned on the giant man at dinner, and their voices were low and soft and flowed with their laughter, their teammates couldn’t help but smile.


	14. Chapter 14

"Doctor!" Heavy called out over the din of gunfire, explosions, and shouts. The monstrosity before them was the hardest challenge they’d faced yet; half of their team had already fallen, and the prospect of respawn seemed uncertain. He may never get another chance.

"Ja!" Medic called back, rushing to stand at the man’s side. His healing beam was trained on Sniper, who had managed to avoid taking much damage by virtue of distance from his target, at least until it started spewing projectiles. When he called out his thanks, Medic turned his gun back on Heavy, looking up at him expectantly. Heavy steeled himself and swallowed, looking down at his partner.

"Kiss me," he said, just loud enough for Medic to hear.

The doctor gaped at him for less than a second before throwing himself against the giant, connecting their lips and pushing forth all the unresolved passion that had built up between them. This might be their only chance, and Medic wasn’t keen on wasting it.

There was no time, however, for grand gestures, and the kiss was over in seconds, cut off by the sound of a particularly loud explosion. They broke apart, watching the creature writhe in pain. With one look at each other, they spoke a thousand words, but all that was said was “Now, Doctor,” and they ran back into the fray.


	15. Chapter 15

Lying together in post-coital bliss, Medic shifts in Heavy’s embrace, looking up at him and reaching out to rest his hand on the other man’s face. That hand is trembling, though; unusual for the brave, cunning doctor, so Heavy covers that hand with one of his and smiles reassuringly.

Medic smiles back, still unable to quell the tremor in his fingers as he whispers, accented and hesitant, “ya tebya lyublyu.” Heavy’s eyebrows lift in pleasant surprise, and, encouraged, Medic adds “Misha.”

Heavy’s chuckle makes the bed rumble, and Medic isn’t sure if he’s laughing at him or with him, but the giant’s fingers tighten on the hand on his cheek, and he turns his head to kiss the palm.

"Where did you learn that, moy dorogoy?" Heavy asks, his eyes twinkling in the dim light. Comforted, Medic tries to suppress a grin.

"I may have picked up a Russian phrase book. Or eavesdropped on you talking to your guns," he teases, leaning up to kiss Heavy’s lips when he pretends to be scandalized. "Or… I may have spoken to your sisters."

Heavy nearly sits up at that. “Traitors!” He shouts, waving a fist in mock indignation. “Misha will have to talk to them too, about telling doctors private things,” he huffs, settling back down to hold Medic again. He’s smiling, though, and Medic sighs.

"Misha," he whispers fondly, and Heavy kisses him sweetly.

"Ya tozhe tebya lyublyu," he answers, holding his beloved tight.


	16. Chapter 16

”The doctors…  _tried_  to experiment on me,” Medic says, idly scratching at the fading camp tattoo, “but,  _heh_ , I sort of overpowered them. They didn’t really expect a starving man to be so strong, but they honestly should have realized how savagely such circumstances can cause one to act.” Heavy swears he can see fire in the doctor’s eyes as he adjusts his glasses. “So there I was, with two incapacitated “doctors” and a room full of surgical equipment….” Yes, Heavy can definitely see it now. “And so, I decided to have a little  _fun_.”

Heavy says nothing, but the way his expression mirrors the other man’s says it all.


	17. Chapter 17

Medic is silently glad that Heavy is wide enough for him to lean against without sliding off his own bar stool to do so. It looks more like inconvenience than intent. That’s what he tells himself after his second beer, at any rate.

After his fifth, he  _is_  sliding out of his stool to be closer to Heavy, arm slung around the taller man’s neck, and Heavy’s around his waist, if only to keep him from falling to the floor. 

"You know," Medic slurs, "you are— no, that’s not right. But no, you are so cute with your little drinks. Your little strawberries." He rests his chin on Heavy’s shoulder to look up at him. "Your little berrinies."

"Bellini," Heavy gently corrects.

"I think it should be berrinies. Like berries. Like strawberries. Who garnishes a peach drink with a strawberry anyway? Berrinies makes much more sense."

Heavy chuckles, shaking the doctor lightly. “Da, I will let all bartenders know,” he assures him.

"Danke," Medic replies, setting his ear on Heavy’s shoulder instead. "They smell good, though." He turns again, sniffing at Heavy’s neck. " _You_  smell good.” Experimentally, he pokes the tip of his tongue out and licks Heavy’s neck. He looks thoughtful for a moment. “You taste good, too.”

Heavy’s laugh is nervous this time. “You are very affectionate tonight, Doctor,” he says, and Medic turns completely in his stool to face him.

"I am  _always_  affectionate,” Medic corrects, and Heavy pats him on the back.

"Yes, moy droog, but not usually in public."

Medic looks around, as if just now realizing they are in a bar, surrounded by teammates and strangers. “Oh,” he says, face turning red. “But….”

He leans forward, and noses into Heavy’s stubbled cheek. “You still smell good.”

Heavy smiles fondly at him. “So do you, lyubov,” he pecks his lips, “so do you.”


	18. Chapter 18

The last thing Mikhail expects to see while hunting for bears in a frozen Russian forest is a skinny man in thin clothes, covered from head to toe in blood. If he were a smaller 16-year-old boy, he probably would have dropped his shotgun and run. Instead, he trudges through the snow, snapping twigs to alert the other man to his presence, and is caught in an owlish gaze behind round spectacles.

"Zdravstvuyte?” he says, cautiously, curiosity peaked when the man makes no move to run.

"Sprechen Sie Deutsch?" comes a high, startled voice. Mikhail tilts his head, and the man continues. "English?"

Mikhail straightens. “Little,” he answers, and the bloodied man looks relieved.

"I have escaped from a camp," he says quickly, too quickly for Mikhail to understand, and he holds up a hand while the other man continues to babble.

"Slow. Slow. You do what?"

Behind the red splattered on his face, the smaller man looks abashed. “Sorry,” he says softly, then continues, much more slowly. “The Nazis. You know of them?”

"Da," Mikhail says, nodding, eyes narrowing.

"I was in a camp. I am a Jew. I escaped," he tries to keep his words short and tone steady. "I need somewhere to stay. Just to clean up, and get warm. For a few days only."

Mikhail looks more closely at the man—at his tattered, icy prison uniform, and sees how badly he’s shaking. It’s a miracle he’s made it this far.

Shouldering his shotgun, Mikhail pulls himself up to his full, imposing height. He may only be a teenager, but he’s bigger than any grown man he knows. The bloodied man draws further in on himself, seemingly bracing for the worst.

"Come," Mikhail says, and the smaller man is clearly surprised, "Have cabin not far. Mama will feed you." He smiles in a way he hopes looks friendly. "Matzoh." 

The man smiles back, and replies: “ʼa dʼanq,” and they set off into the snow.


	19. Chapter 19

Heavy shifts in his seat, holding Medic’s hand only very loosely. He looks uncomfortable.

"Regarding the heart on top of the cake," Medic says, leaning forward over the desk between himself and their wedding planner, "is there any way you can fill it with some sort of… strawberry or raspberry syrup, so that when we cut it, it looks as though it’s oozing blood? I would say, just use real blood!, but, aheh, not everyone enjoys the taste."

The wedding planner looks uncomfortable too.


	20. Chapter 20

Heavy was down-to-the-bone tired; lugging Sascha around and picking up slack for the injured Pyro had taken its toll on his aging body. All he wanted after the Administrator called end of match was a hot shower and a soft bed, and he lingered in the first, letting the steam penetrate his pores and work the soreness from his bones.

Half-dressed and toweling off, Heavy plodded into the infirmary, on the way to his and Medic’s quarters and a well-deserved rest. As he wove his way around machines and gurneys, though, he found Medic himself, absorbed in some experiment or other. He would’ve just said his goodnights and continued on, but maybe it was the way the spotlight shone on the older man. Maybe it was the way his normally perfect hair instead hung in his eyes. Maybe it was how he was bent over the table, and how his dark trousers hugged the curve of his ass.

Whatever it was, any thoughts of sleeping in their bed left Heavy’s mind, and thoughts of doing entirely different, more exhausting things took over. Without so much as a word, Heavy grabbed his doctor around the waist and hefted him over his shoulder, ignoring the older man’s feeble protests but grinning at his delighted laugh when he realized what was happening.


End file.
